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Children's Voices 
and Voices of Joy 



BY 



Norman C. Schlichter 




BOSTON 
RICHARD G. BADGER 

THE GORHAM PRESS 



Copyright, 1922, by Norman C. Schlichter 



All Rights Reserved 






Made in the United States of America 



The Gorhara Press, Boston, U. S. A. 

AUG 1 1 J9?2 



g)CU681849 



•UP I 



TO 
MILDRED, BETTY, 

ALLAN, AND JOHN, 

AND THE "HAPPY ACRES" 
THEY ROMP UPON 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Thanksgiving Song 7 

THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE 

Trundle-Bed Town 11 

Boy Eyes 13 

Lines for a Boy's Riley Book 14 

Where Baby Sleeps 15 

An Evening Journey 16 

Go-to-bed Song 17 

Cradle Song 18 

Alice and Edith 19 

On Seeing a Child Pray 20 

The White Book 21 

On a Child's Picture 22 

Christmas Song for a Child 23 

Christmas 24 

Christmas 25 

Advice to Parents 26 

CHILD THOUGHTS 

The Kingdom of the Boo Dark Night 29 

A Child Hero 30 

Our Sofa 32 

Boylike 32 

Stars 33 

Slates 33 

A Wicked Thought 33 

A Call to Arms 33 

A Child's Prayer 34 

An American's Wealth 3^ 

5 



Contents 



VOICES OF JOY 

PAGE 

Your Eyes 39 

Lyrics of Thornhill 40 

The Susquehanna River at Harrisburg .... 46 
November Chrysanthemums in a Southern Mill 

Village 46 

For Peace — Through All the Year 47 

When the Sea is Calm 48 

Fireflies 48 

Northern Autumn 48 

Scioto Hills, Ohio, Mid-December 49 

A Thought in Charleston, West Virginia ... 49 

Open Skies 50 

A Mountain Ministry 50 

Early March in Charleston 51 

Frost Fingers 51 

Old Ocean 52 

When Rain Winds Blow 52 

November in Chicago 53 

Day and Night 53 

A Little Room in the City 54 

March Daffodils in Charleston 55 

"Come Back, O Spirit of the Mild Content" . . 56 

June 57 

Of Peach Trees Blooming Very Early .... 58 

Summer White-Caps 57 

The Pines 59 

After Reading Archibald Lampman's Poems ... 61 

The Open Hill 62 

The Wise Word, the True Word 64 



THANKSGIVING SONG 

For little acts of kindness done, 

For thoughts of beauty born, 
To blossom all around me in the sun 

With each recurring morn, 
My heart is singing! 

For friendship with its ties of gold 

To bind around the soul 
And warm our lonely spirits in the cold 

To see love's aureole, 

My heart is singing ! 

For a thousand, thousand common things,- 

The fountain in my yard. 
The dainty colors of canary wings, 

The lyrics of a bard, 

My heart is singing! 

For happy children come to me 

Unconscious of my bliss 
At finding music In their infancy. 

And simple song like this. 
My heart is singing! 



THE CHILD IN THE HOUSE 



TRUNDLE-BED TOWN * 

Ev'ry man who's under seven 
Knows a borough much like heaven, 
With four corners snug and small, 
Just inside the nursery wall. 

All its streets are thro' and thro' 
Paved with quiltings red and blue. 
And a boulevard of white 
Runs along its bolster-site. 

Mother is the borough's queen, 
But the only ruling seen 
Is her taking tax of prayer 
Nightly from each res'dent there. 

Hushed and still it is by day, 
For the dreams are made that way; 
What save silence could devise 
All the night-time's sweet surprise ? 

Innocence and Sleep abide 
In this town at eventide, 
Only men devoid of sin 
Having right to enter in. 

* Published by permission of The Youth's Companion. 

II 



Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 

Pillows soft and white and fair 
Help to answer mother's prayer 
That her men rest snug and sound 
While the wheels of night go round. 

I went up there, years ago, 
Ev'ry night, I loved it so; 
And I wish I knew the way 
Up there still at close of day. 



12 



The Child in the House 



BOY EYES 

Boy eyes! Dew eyes! 
Could I forsake? 

Filling with morning, 
Sunshine adorning, 
Boy eyes, dew eyes — 
Baby's awake. 

Boy eyes! Glad eyes! 
Fine all the day, 

Glowing with pleasure 
Man cannot measure, 
Boy eyes, glad eyes — 
Baby's at play. 

Boy eyes! Pure eyes! 

No hint of care, 

They look up above 

To angels who love, 

Boy eyes, pure eyes — 

Baby's at prayer. 

Boy eyes! Tired eyes! 
Dreaming truth-deep, 
Head on the pillow, 
Drooped as the willow, 
Boy eyes, tired eyes — 
Baby's asleep. 

13 



Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 

Boy eyes! Bright eyes! 
Joyous and free, 

They look into mine 
And seem all divine, 
Boy eyes, bright eyes — 
Love eyes they be. 



LINES FOR A BOY'S RILEY BOOK 

I'm glad to give this book to one 
Who's good and fat and full of fun, 
And loves me like a little knight. 
In honor true, with all his might. 
I w^ish for him the kindest care 
From everybody, everywhere, 
And hope that when he is a man, 
He'll do for others all he can. 
So, little boy, accept this book, 
And often on its pages look. 



14 



The Child in the House 



WHERE BABY SLEEPS 

The baby sleeps on Pillow Hill, 
Just overlooking Cradleville. 

It's not a high hill, as you see, 
And he can climb it easily. 

'Tis near enough to mother's bed 
To have her hand upon his head, 

And if he makes the weest cry, 
Her ear can hear, her aid is nigh. 

It is a dainty, dreamy place, 

And white and warm as baby's face. 

A-riding in on velvet fawns 

Here fairies come when evening dawns. 

They whisper into baby's ear 

The sweetest things a child can hear. 

He listens while the hilltop swings 

As though 'twere built on golden springs. 

But when it stops the place grows dim. 
And all the world is dead to him. 

He's gone to sleep on Pillow Hill, 
Just overlooking Cradleville. 

15 



Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 



AN EVENING JOURNEY 

"I lay me down to sleep," he said, 
Then climbed the Hill of Trundle-Bed. 

His mother's kiss he took along, 

A snow-white brow and heart of song. 

He stopped to rest at Blink-a-Blink, 
Then journeyed on to Could-not-Think; 

One step, and through the Gates of Rest 
He entered as a nightgown guest. 

His mother told me that's the way 
He loves to go once every day. 

So she just dresses him in white 
And lets him wander off with Night. 

I asked her if she did not fear 

Lest he some morn might not appear. 

"The angels promise me," she said, 
*'To send him home with morning red." 

''Such trust," I said, "so tender, true, 
Will always bring him back to you." 

i6 



The Child in the House 



GO-TO-BED SONG 

Dear Wide-Awake has ridden away 
On the fading wings of the dying day, 
And left you alone with old Sleepy-Eyes, 
A cosy cradle and dream-surprise. 

Rockaby high, baby, 
Rockaby low; 

Rockaby, my baby. 
Pure as the snow! 
Child-love in your dimples and love in your eyes. 
The cosiest cradle, the sweetest surprise ! 

The soldiers of tin on your doll-baby chairs 
Are blinking their eyes and saying their prayers. 
While the boys in the picture books, nodding their 

heads. 
Are wishing for mammas and soft trundle-beds. 
Rockaby high, baby, 

Rockaby low; 
Rockaby, my baby. 
Pure as the snow! 
Now sleep, and you'll meet 'mong the dream-away 

joys, 
Your soldiers of tin and your picture book boys! 

Ah ! down from the fairy shores whiter than milk. 
Dream-horses are coming with saddles of silk. 
To bear you and Sleepy-Eyes over the sea, 
Where all the delights of forgetf ulness be ! 

17 



Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 

Rockaby high, baby, 

Rockaby low; 
Rockaby, my baby. 
Pure as the snow! 
Now close your eyes tightly, keep hold of his mane, 
And the dream-horse will bring you to Mother 
again ! 

CRADLE SONG 

The flower-eyelids feel the touch 

Of twilight fingers, dear, 

And one by one the little stars 

Begin to reappear, — 

And to thee is the peace of the pillow! 

Then rock, my babe, go rocking away 
On the crest of the cradle-billow! 
Then rock, my babe, go rocking away 
Enwrapt in the peace of the pillow. 

The breezes blow through dusky aisles 

To meet the merry moon; 

The wood-doves unto drowsing go, 

A-wing with dreamy tune, — 

And to thee is the peace of the pillow! 

Then rock, my babe, go rocking away 
On the crest of the cradle billow! 
Then rock, my babe, go rocking away 
Enwrapt in the peace of the pillow. 

i8 



The Child in the House 



ALICE AND EDITH 

Alice, my sweetheart, and Edith, my pet, 
They were my darlings — and I love them yet — 
When in North Carolina through years very sweet 
They lived close beside me upon the same street. 

When home I returned from my business or 

pleasure. 
They gave me their love in the fullest rich 

measure. 
They kissed me, they hugged me, they called me 

fine names; 
We romped, and we raced, and we played happy 

games. 

Once I asked them to tea and they ate with fine 

grace. 
Their calm, laughing hearts showing clear in each 

face. 
Now, I think we had rice, Carolina's delight, 
And chicken and chocolate and candy more bright. 

Next day they both called and told me their 

dreams. 
As if it just happened so clear it all seems. 
They never came singly, but always the pair; 
Sweet Alice was lovely, pet Edith as fair. 

19 



Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 



Alice, my sweetheart, and Edith, my pet, 
They were my darlings — and I love them yet — 
When in North Carolina through years very sweet 
They lived close beside me upon the same street. 



ON SEEING A CHILD PRAY 

A child at the feet of our Father in heaven 
Is kneeling down to pray. 

And his Angels wait 

At the bedside gate 
To bear its words away. 

A child at the feet of our Father in heaven! 
Two eyes upraised I see, 

And the hands a-clasp 

In a childish grasp 
For heed of Deity. 

A child at the feet of our Father in heaven! 
Oh, list! for sweet as a rose 
Is the simple cry 
And the soft ''Come nigh," 
That paradiseward goes. 

A child at the feet of our Father in heaven! 
What tender trust and true 
From the baby breast 
Of the Angels' guest 
Is sweeping through the blue. 

20 



The Child in the House 



A child at the feet of our Father in heaven! 
Would I could claim as they 

Of the sinless hand, 

In the Mayday land, 
The Master's ear to-day! 



THE WHITE BOOK 
From the French of Auguste Brizeux 

With soul and body light I reached sixteen ; 
My hair like gold upon my brow was seen; 
My virgin breast was full of ardor strong; 
A thousand joys came temptingly along. 

A loving Angel then unto me came, 
And on her vestal bosom shone like flame, 
With leaves all virgin clean, a book snow white. 
Tis yours," said she, "to fill its pages bright. 



(( ) 



"Let ne'er a page be blank, but full of zest; 
Let year and month and day your work attest; 
And may there be no trembling lines of sin 
To shame your vision when you look within. 

"A calm and sweetly-flowing story write. 
Each morn think what the page will hold at night. 
When you are old this book a joy will be, 
And in your mirror God's own smile you'll see." 

21 



Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 



ON A CHILD'S PICTURE 

Little dear in calico, 
How I love you none may know 
Save such hearts as leap with joy 
At the sight of girl or boy. 

I would ask you for a curl 
Had I coin of precious pearl, 
But, ah me, I fear you'd say, 
No, I cannot sell to-day." 



<( 



If your lips were not behind 
Dainty fingers soft and kind, 
I should surely beg a kiss 
In my raptures, little miss. 

Could your eyes be made to see, 
I would shake the Fairy Tree, 
Full of apples wrought in gold, 
All for children, I am told. 

Could you rise and go with me 
Over valley, over sea, 
I'd provide the tend'rest nurse 
In the boundless universe. 

But alas! a mother's tears. 
Falling through these many years, 
Tell me this will never be. 
Little angel, Emily. 

22 



The Child in the House 



CHRISTMAS SONG FOR A CHILD 

I will open two lips of purity 

And carol the morning through 
To the praise of the Babe of Bethlehem, 
Who silvers the Christmas dew. 
To the Babe of Love, 
To the Babe above, 
To the Babe who will my Saviour be 
I will sing through lips of purity. 

With two little lips by youth made mild 

I will sing a sweet song for the dear Christ-Child ! 

I will hold high two hands of purity 

And pledge each spotless palm, 
To the side of the Babe of Bethlehem, 
Who sweetens the Christmas calm. 
To the Babe of Love, 
To the Babe above, 
To the Babe who will my Saviour be 
I will pledge two hands of purity ! 

With two little hands by youth made mild 

I will pledge my soul to the dear Christ-Child I 

I will bend low two knees of purity 

And offer myself to-day, 
To the work of the Babe of Bethlehem, 

Who sees me at Christmas play. : 

23 



Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 



To the Babe of Love, 
To the Babe above, 

To the Babe who will my Saviour be 

I will offer a life of purity. 



My one little life by youth made mild 

I will yield to the arms of the dear Christ-Child ! 



CHRISTMAS 

Christmas is the fairest day 

That dawns for man. 
And eyes of children are its brightest light. 

'Tis beauteous plan. 



It has been so since Jesus came 

To Bethlehem. 
His eyes betokened first to Mary there 

God's diadem. 



24 



The Child in the House 



CHRISTMAS 
From the French of Gautier 

The sky is black, the earth is white ; 

Bells carol, praise bestowing! 
Jesus is born; — the Virgin bright 

On him her smile is throwing. 

No festooned curtains are upborne 
To keep the child from freezing; 

Thin spider-webs alone adorn 
The stable roof displeasing. 

The dear child Jesus trembles sore, 
For few are they who love him ; 

To warm him in his cradle poor 
The cattle breathe above him. 

Above the roof from parted sky 
White snowflakes thick are falling. 

Glad angels white to shepherds nigh 
Are "Christmas! Christmas!" calling. 



25 



Children's Voices and Voices of Joy 



ADVICE TO PARENTS 



Give the children playthings, 
Let them make a noise, 
Mindful every minute 
They are girls and boys. 

Do not weep before them, 
Do not fret or frown ; 
Keep them laughing round you, 
Keep their troubles down. 

Every happy childhood' 
Is a comfort vast 
In the grown-up sorrows 
When the years run fast. 



26 



CHILD THOUGHTS 



THE KINGDOM OF THE BOO 
DARK NIGHT 

I know an ugly kingdom wide 

Where I'm afraid to go. 
I cuddle up at thought of it 

Beneath the covers, oh! 

It's down beyond the hallway there, 

Outside the big front door, 
And everything is black and black 

'Cept now and then a store. 

If I should travel there alone 
Just once, now mind, it's true, 

My brother says I'd see a king ^ 

They call the Bug-a-boo. 

He's higher than the trees, he says. 
And both his fists are double. 

And all he ever thinks about 
Is making children trouble. 

He runs whene'er our mammas come, 

Of papas too, he's 'fraid, 
And so when I was out with them. 

Behind the clouds he stayed. 

29 



Children's Voices and Voices of Joy 



If I should be a mamma now, 
I'd try to catch and fight 

This nasty, goblin kind of king 
Out in the boo-dark night. 



A CHILD HERO 



When I sit down with pa and ma 

To take my evening tea, 
I try to be the finest boy 

That ever you did see. 

I bow my head till grace is said, 

Then use a fork until 
My mamma says, "Now, use a spoon 

Else something you may spill." 

I gladly do just as she says, 
For spoons are more becoming 

To one who reads from picture charts 
And can't do any summing. 

Sometimes if things are salted so 

I do not like the taste, 
I take an extra drink or two 

And let none go to waste. 

30 



Child Thoughts 



And if I cannot cut my pie, 

I do not cry nor hollo, 
I wait until it's cut for me 

Before I get a swallow. 

Sometimes desserts are made so good 
That I get full of wishes, 

But not a wish do I e'er tell, 
For fear I'd get two dishes. 

Now, ain't I good for doing this? 

My mamma thinks I am, 
For ev'ry night she kisses me 

And calls me, Little Lamb. 



31 



Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 



OUR SOFA 

We have a sofa green and blue, 
That's prettier than me or you; 
It's in the parlor still and fine, 
Untouched except by Emmeline. 

She is my sister, old and tall. 
She owns the sofa, owns it all. 
And never once in all the year 
Dare I go even halfway near. 

She says I have my little chair, 
And like a good girl should stay there ; 
But every now and then I cry 
'Cause I must pass the sofa by. 

I think my sister ought to be 
Ashamed that she's so cruel to me, 
For only once since I do sums 
Did I have sticky hands and thumbs. 



BOYLIKE 

I love my teacher just enough. 
I would not love her more, 
Lest sometime she might call me back 
When I go out the door. 

32 



Child Thoughts 



STARS 

I think the stars too little are 
To carry lamps with light; 

Now would n't it be dreadful 
If they'd stumble in the night 

And burn each other, oh, so bad 
No stars would evermore be had ! 

SLATES 

I love my slate the best of all 
The things I have both great and small, 
And I am wishing, o'er and o'er. 
Our roof of slate would be a floor. 

A WICKED THOUGHT 

I have a dress that's all of silk; 
It is the color of the milk; 
And I would wear it every day, 
If my mamma were far away. 

A CALL TO ARMS 

If I should lose my animals 
Some night from Noah's ark, 
I'd have to get my soldiers brave 
To hunt them in the dark, 

33 



Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 



A CHILD'S PRAYER 

When I put my playthings by, 
Father, guide me with thine eye; 
When I, tired, creep to bed, 
Put thy hands upon my head. 



Thou art not afraid by night. 
For thou mad'st both dark and light, 
And I trust thy keeping sure 
While the silences endure. 



While I rest on pillows soft, 
Peep betimes within the loft 
Where my pretty bunnies dwell. 
Meekly hoping all is well. 



Let the star thou lovest best 
Shine upon the faithful breast 
Of my dogg}^, Commodore, 
Watching on Balcony Shore. 



Guard my Playroom Kingdom all, 

'Specially my top and ball, 

For as soon as I awake. 

These two knights my pleasure make. 

34 



Child Thoughts 



Keep my marbles every one; 
Do not let the sand-mill run; 
Keep the pages in my books; 
Save my soldiers from the spooks. 

These requests I make in love; 
Hear them so, dear One above, 
And when morning lights the skies, 
Give me back my open eyes. 



35 



Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 



AN AMERICAN'S WEALTH * 

I have two little kittens, 
I have two little socks, 
I have two little mittens, 
I have some colored chalks. 

I have a lovely brother, 
I have a pa and ma, 
I have a sled and other 
Things that both my aunties saw. 

I have a broken dolly. 
Who's often sick in bed, 
I have a talking poUy 
With a very colored head. 

I have two golden fishes, 
Who swim, but cannot run; 
I have a dozen wishes 
That always wish for fun. 

♦ Published by permission of the Public Ledger, Phila- 
delphia. 



36 



VOICES OF JOY 



YOUR EYES 
To E. W. S. 



The light within your loving eyes 
Has all the wonder and surprise 
Of Spring which gathers slow and wide 
By Susquehanna's southern tide. 

All those who mingle year by year 
With this same Spring, who chance to hear 
This praise and know it very true, 
Will feel a thousand envyings of you. 



But you, who also know so well 
This Spring's unmatched miracle, 
Will blush and modestly disclaim 
Your eyes' deserved incomparable fame. 



39 



Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 



LYRICS OF THORNHILL 



**A THORNHILL ROSE IS A ROSE INDEED" 

A Thornhill rose is a rose indeed, 
And perfect every flower, 
For the wind and the sun 
And the sun and the wind 
Caress them by the hour. 

A Thornhill wind is a wind indeed; 

The village lieth high, 

And the bold wind and the tame wind. 

The tame wind and the bold, 

Blow out of the Thornhill sky. 

The Thornhill folk are folk indeed, 
And Thornhill folk are good, 
For the hush and the peace 
And the peace and the hush 
Enkindle brotherhood. 

II 

'have YOU HEARD THE THORNHILL MUSIC? 



Have you heard the Thornhill music, 
Have you heard the Thornhill song, 
From the happy throng 

40 



Voices of Joy 



Of birds in silent hedges, 
In fragrant flower ledges, 
In elfin meadow edges? 

Have you seen the Thornhill wonder? 

Have you seen the Thornhill gleam? 

Like a lovely dream, 

It is ancient, it is olden; 

It is shining, it is golden; 

It is all sure fairy-molten. 

You can hear it, you can see it, 
If you comrade with the pines, 
With the pines, the pines. 
There is music, there is wonder. 
Glory in, and o'er, and under, 
And around the peaceful pines. 

Ill 
"four churches stand to quicken grace" 

Four churches stand to quicken grace 

In Thornhill hearts, and make a holy place 

For men to dwell. 'T would easy seem 

To honor Deity and dream 

Of Him, His beauty, and His thought, 

By which are rapturously wrought 

Thornhill flowers and Thornhill birds, 

And the palpitant, lovely words 

Which the enamored wind doth bring 

Up from the meadow every spring, 

41 



Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 

IV 
THE BRIDGE 

Who takes the road to Thornhill, 
Through Thornhill to the bridge 
Which spans the lush, green meadow, 
Sloping lazy from the ridge, 
Will gaze and gaze in rapture 
And a peace undreamed of capture: 

By the gentle flowing stream, 
By the burning golden gleam 
Of the helmets of the corn, 
Marching down to greet the morn, 
With three pine trees in command 
Of the column green and grand. 

By the troops of cornflowers blue, 
Resting arms amid the dew; 
By the silver-waving willows, 
Like far glorious ocean billows, 
Rolling onward with the wind 
Toward the shores of distant Ind. 

By the grain in golden shock. 

Holding comfort for the stock 

When winter blows; and harvest white 

For man's desire and delight. 

By trim white farmhouse crowning clear 

The greenest pasture of the year. 

42 



Voices of Joy 



By the eager hurried greed 
Of a tired and thirsty steed 
For the water pure and bright, 
Gravel-cleansed by day and night. 
By the graceful cattle herd, 
Drifting, swaying, all unheard. 
O'er the meadow do they ply, 
Like a leisure cloud on high. 

By sure music, stately, loud, 

Of the giant live oaks proud. 

When winds blow high adown the ridge, 

Straight across the listening bridge. 

By blended wine of wind and sun, 

Full plentiful for every one 

Who patient with the bridge will share 

The lazy, languid August air. 

By the cozy toilers' cot, 
Where the simple solemn thought 
Of their God ennobles all; 
By the robins' cheery call. 

I gaze, and gaze in rapture. 
And a peace undreamed of capture 
When I take the road to Thornhill, 
Through Thornhill to the bridge 
Which spans the matchless meadow. 
Sweeping glorious from the ridge. 

43 



Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 



"iVe left my heart in thornhill" 



I've left my heart in Thornhill, 

So I shall sure return 
When ironweed lights the roadway 

And brighter blossoms burn. 

I'll hurry into John Street 
To where it comes a road, 

And when I reach the meadow, 
I'll find my heart's abode. 

Oh, come with me to Thornhill, 

Unutterably fair, 
And be a guest of Beauty, 

With sunshine everywhere! 



VI 



MEMORY 



I've left fair babes in Thornhill, 

And I am far away; 
But I can hear their laughter, 

And I can see them play. 

44 



Voices of Joy 



For, oh, my heart adores them 
And memory plays me fair, 

And I am still companioning 
The darlings everywhere. 

What wondrous little journeys 
Down John Street did we share, 

My blue-eyed Mildred matching 
All delicate beauties there! 

When now she goes to John Street, 

If she will look behind, 
A partner on each journey 

The blessed child will find. 



When Betty goes a-playing 
With Mildred or a pet, 

I see her gold hair flying, 
For I am with her yet. 

Fve left fair babes in Thornhill, 

And I am far away; 
But I can hear their laughter, 

And I can see them play. 



^5 



Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 



THE SUSQUEHANNA RIVER AT 
HARRISBURG 

Here mountains part to let the river roll 
Eternal toward its salt tumultuous goal; 
The animated beauties of its tide 
A special happy splendor here provide; 
And here the river seems to laugh out story 
Of all its previous perfect path of glory 
As if it knew there might be vast delight 
Within these mountains at the lovely sight; 
Then graceful bending, beauty-set, it flows, 
Flows on with sweet enchantment and repose. 



NOVEMBER CHRYSANTHEMUMS IN A 
SOUTHERN MILL VILLAGE 

Here where men and women toil to clothe their 

kind, 
And oftenest with smiles, for they are honest and 

have thought of God, 
They all love flowers and can tell their ways 

unto each season's end. 

I've seen the hands that finger threads upon their 

looms 
So delicately and yet so sure, display an even finer 

touch 
Upon these gentle and enrapturing blossoms pure, 

46 



Voices of Joy 



(A million petals posed in bright patterns as of 

Paradise) 
Both now in all their fullest glory showing, 
And while their gracious God was weaving them 

from day to day 
'Mid sun and shower, in His heart their beauty 

knowing. 



FOR PEACE— THROUGH ALL THE YEAR 

For peace, on spring's fair day. 
To follow birds and stray 
Bright blossoming meadows o'er. 
For peace, just this, no more. 

For peace, on summer day, 
To join a child at play 
Upon a sandy shore. 
For peace, just this, no more. 

For peace, on autumn day, 
To fondle leaves full gay 
That fall about my door. 
For peace, just this, no more. 

For peace, on winter day, 
To burn a log, and pray, 
And meditate love's store. 
For peace, just this, no more. 

47 



Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 



WHEN THE SEA IS CALM 

Low-breathing bells, with a gull's salute, 
And a cloistered coral whispery 
Of Thee, of Thee, 
Repose within salt-tuned strings 

And sound in the waves of a quiet sea 
For me, for me. 



FIREFLIES 

From a land of elfin wonder, 
With fraternal beacons bright, 

Lo, the messengers of magic 
To the inner sense of night ! 



NORTHERN AUTUMN 

The wrinkled veins of the aging leaf 

Are at their tremolo, 
And all the griefs of a forced good-by 

The avian senses know. 



48 



Voices of Joy 



SCIOTO HILLS, OHIO, MID-DECEMBER 

In fine contrasting curving grace 
And delicate sweep of rounded slope 
These hills climactic beauty have. 
And Night hath sprinkled lightly down 
An even covering of snow, 
Which seems divinely spread 
To quicken the beholder's sense 
Of loveliness and perfect form. 



A THOUGHT IN CHARLESTON, WEST 

VIRGINIA 

Though mountains that surround are not so high. 

Yet perfect rampart 'gainst the fine far sky 

Of average place where men abide 

Are they, and thus effectually they hide 

The glow of setting sun's last beauties bright 

And every dawning day's new first delight. 

And so I think each far and flaming star 

Must have a consolation vaster far 

For Charleston folk than commonly for those who 

see 
The first of daw^n's, the last of day's, fine ecstasy. 



49 



Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 



OPEN SKIES 

When I behold the open skies, 
Straightway I claim them as my prize, 
Because their blueness silently 
Restores the dying faith in me. 

For they have trusted ages through 
The One who made me, me; you, you, 
Though thunders stirred and mists bedimmed 
And left them all unseraphimed. 

Nor have they murmured in their stress. 
Nor spoken aught but ''Blessedness: 
To lie here patiently in pain 
And test His wondrous love again." 

When I behold the open skies, 
Straightway I claim them as my prize, 
For their example silently 
Restores the dying faith in me. 



MOUNTAIN MINISTRY 

I see the purple mountains lying 

In far long ranges 'neath the wintry sun. 
And in their soft unusual muteness 

I feel a comfort when the day is done. 

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Voices of Joy 



In all their high unchanging calmness 
I feel renewal of our Father's rest, 

And know that when these surging days are over, 
In perfect peace He'll fold us to His breast. 



EARLY MARCH IN CHARLESTON 

Warm is the color and happy the pose 
Of every glorious Charleston rose, 
Sweet are the hyacinths down at one's feet, 
Breathing a welcome to all whom they meet. 

Even the ocean relentless and stern 
Seems to slacken its will, and to yearn 
To be quiet, and ministrant once and for aye 
To the fiery daffodils lighting the day. 

If Charleston is ever like this, let me stay, 

After hasting to summon forever aw^ay 

From the Northern clime now^ so barren and chill 

The friends of my heart here their loves to fulfill. 



FROST FINGERS 

The fingers on the hand of Frost 

Subserve artistic sense, 
And every morn that harbors him 

Gets frescoed recompense, 

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Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 



OLD OCEAN 

Lo, soft saline orchestrals roll 
In old triumphant tones, 

And rouse in me the rhythmic lore 
Of long-lost primal zones. 



WHEN RAIN WINDS BLOW 

Just a little aching absence, 

Just a little ashen gloom, 
With a breath of numbing odor 

From an olden, open tomb, 
Seems to settle firm and low 
In my soul when rain winds blow. 

Just a little happy loving. 

Just a little blissful joy, 
With a restful recollection 

Of the free heart of a boy, 
Seems to vaporize and go 
From my soul when rain winds blow. 

Just enough of blessings vanish 
As will give the cares a place. 

For the soul of only sweetness 
Might forget the fond, true Face. 

Purposeful this plan, I know 

In my soul when rain winds blow. 

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Voices of Joy 



NOVEMBER IN CHICAGO 

I left bright roses in the sun 

In CaroHna fair, 
(Snow-white, and yellow, red, and pink) 

I had to leave them there; 
For I must dwell in other clime 
And with new blossoms count my time. 

Now wind is chill, and flowers dead, 

And days of sunshine rare, 
While my sweet roses blossom bright 

In Carolina fair. 
My fine new flowers all are dead. 
Of Love I must be comforted. 



DAY AND NIGHT 

Welcome, peace-encompassed night! 
Welcome, dawn of blessed light! 

Both are givers unto man 
On a universal plan. 

Who may prove which giveth best? 
Light hath duty, night hath rest. 



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Children's Voices and Voices of Joy 



A LITTLE ROOM IN THE CITY 

Ten feet by ten Is more than size 
Of all the sky that greets mine eyes 

In terms of common measure; 
But looking, well content am I, 
I measure it with memory 

And stretch the soft blue treasure. 

Ten feet by ten becomes a mile, 
And on I journey till I smile, 

And yet there is no ending. 
With so much sky above my head, 
The room's a land; a town, my bed, 

I'm easily pretending. 

And so I measure other things. 
They grow so large my heart just sings, 

And I am ne'er complaining. 
Some men would say I dwell in gloom, 
But many sigh for this small room 

And joys that I am gaining. 



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Voices of Joy 



MARCH DAFFODILS IN CHARLESTON 



You warm my heart expectant still 
Of wintry frost and chill, 
Too harsh for tender eyes like thine 
To flash their secrets into mine. 

Why are you blest to greet the world 
So long before unfurled 
Your northern kin of equal blaze 
Bestow like glories to our gaze? 

And do you nod especially sweet 
To Northerners you meet, 
To help them treasure the surprise 
Of light on unexpectant eyes? 

I gaze, and think you mean to tell 
True answers; but, ah, well 
I know, if speech you knew, 't would be 
Too perfect for humanity. 



55 



Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 



"COME BACK, O SPIRIT OF THE MILD 

CONTENT" 



Come back, O Spirit of the mild content, 
And breathe on me anew. I've held the hand 
Of grief too long; too far into her land 
I've come defeated and without dissent, 
Till now no more thy magic ravishment 
Hath place to leap and fall within my breast 
And cheer, as fairy streamlets moss-caressed 
Do sweet wild things whose blood some drouth hath 

spent; 
Till I am blind to fancy, deaf to all 
The old consoling sounds of those glad hours 
When music filled my soul. O Spirit, fly 
Unto my need. Cut short this bitter thrall 
And help me find again my long-lost powers 
To voice the beauties of the earth and sky. 



56 



Voices of Joy 



JUNE 

From the French of Coppee 

In life where we but few years see, 
The sure instinct of birds and men 
To build a nest will always be. 

A humble roof of straw and clay 

To warm their families and their love, 

All wish to build some happy day. 

By maiden eyes my heart deep wrought, 

Of secret and exclusive joy 

This tender hope I too have caught. 

I dreamed with joy I built my nest, 
But then a furious storm-wind came 
And overthrew my plannings blest. 

As eggs that fall to earth from a tree. 

Upon my solitary way 

My broken hopes I sadly see. 



57 



Children s f^oices and Voices of Joy 



OF PEACH TREES BLOOMING VERY 

EARLY 



In glorious garments they display 
Their bright contagious hopes to-day; 
And the souls of all who see 
Are ennobled mightily. 

The warm earth and the loving sun 
Rejoice upon their triumph won, 
And Beauty's perfect eyes 
Moisten with their rhapsodies. 

I glory in the sacred sight; 

At noon, full heavenly is their light. 

Yet I feel a vague despair 

From a sighing in the air. 

The innocent glory may have come too soon 

Under a false ill-fated moon; 

And a jealous wind, and proud. 

May weave for each hope its dismal shroud. 



58 



Voices of Joy 



SUMMER WHITE-CAPS 

White lips come up all over the lake 
Snow-white, and w^hite as death, 
To sip from the mellow friendly wind 
Its soft sustaining breath. 

They chatter with each other very gay, 
For the wind is full and fair, 
And the sun is kissing the pure white lips 
Quite tenderly everywhere. 



THE PINES 

I have tarried in the bosom of the pines 

And they asked me of my grief, 

Thinking they might have relief 

For my pain. 

So I told them how it came 

And I gently called her name. 

But the music that is theirs. 

Like a whisper on the stairs 

In a palace old and lonely and forgot, 

Sweet and low, and artist-wrought. 

Changed to chanting with a sigh 

For the one who had to die. 

And I had a sweet relief 

Of my ever-burning grief 

From the music in the bosom of the pines; 

From the music of the sympathetic pines. 

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Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 

Oh, the music in the bosom of the pines! 

I shall hold them fast; and tell 

All the syllables that fell 

In my heart 

When I next am asked to share 

With another heavy care, 

Or his sorrow, or his woe. 

If he cannot swiftly go 

Yor the comfort in the bosom of the pines. 

Oh, the chanting with a sigh 

For my love who had to die! — 

All the syllables are pure, 

All the syllables endure, 

Which I heard within the bosom of the pines ! 



60 



foices of Joy 



AFTER READING ARCHIBALD LAMP- 
MAN'S POEMS 



Sometimes it seems that thou hast sung all songs 
Which one could ever care to sing, so whole, 
So splendid, nature-fed, thy grasp of soul. 
To thee the honor of thy land belongs, 
O minstrel of the millet and the lake. 
Whose spirit fine I would the world could take 
And make its own. Then nature's perfectness 
Would get her God-planned chance to teach and 

bless ; 
For men would have the inner sight to see, 
The open heart to feel her meaning imagery- 



Let us go on who have begun to learn 

Like this fond fellow of the sun, the ways 

Of bird and stream, the wholesome joy of days 

Amid the flowers and the bees; to yearn 

For conscience that shall be full clear beside 

Great troops of lilies fair, all satisfied 

With what their Maker, who is wise, hath given; 

Or in the presence of the grass hard driven 

By thoughtless winds, that shows in every blade 

A sweet simplicit} of lieart both sure and staid. 

6i 



Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 

Alas, that thou has left us in thy prime, 
O Lampman, leader great and true! we need 
Thee who are weaklings of old fancy's breed 
To give us courage for the things sublime; 
We need to put our hands in thine and mount 
To heights where masks are laid aside, where count 
No more the foolish foibles we have heard 
Among self-centred men. Alas, no word 
From thee will come again ! And we are lost 
And fatherless mid beauty, silence, and the frost. 



THE OPEN HILL 

Sometimes the city makes me glad, 
Sometimes her joy can thrill; 

But oh, 't is not the joy I had 
Upon the open hill. 

To sit upon a robe of grass, 
See morning come with song 

Outpouring from the birds that pass 
In gay familiar throng; 



To read at noon a message bright 

Unto one's busy soul. 
From out the long, long lines of light 

That back and forward roll; 

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Voices of Joy 



To rise from off the sunny lea, 
And, mounting up at will, 

The master of yourself to be 
Upon the open hill; 

Ah, these are joys we never know 
Who, by our fate compelled, 

Must up and down a city go, 
In streets be ever held. 

We have our pomp, our wisdom true; 

Our music, arts, and fames; 
But open hills and stars and dew 

To us are only names. 

A broken reed my heart would be 
Could I not think me still 

Of early days God gave to me 
Upon an open hill. 



63 



Children s Voices and Voices of Joy 



THE WISE WORD, THE TRUE WORD 

He has the wise word, he has the true word 

Of solace, or joy, 

Who hears the great Voice in the wind, 

Who lists the soft Voice in the rain 

Of late April days. 

When Spring is in the white heat 

Of her marvelous conjuring. 

He has the wise word, he has the true word 

Of solace, or joy. 

Who sees the dim sprites in the woods 

At autumn tide. 

Full fairy-some, groping in the soft haze 

After sweet dreams almost melodious 

In their felt silences. 

He has the wise word, he has the true word 

Of solace, or joy, 

Whose heart is lighted by the bright stars; 

Who anp^uishes with a breaking wave 

On a lonely shore; 

Who reads the wide high skies to find 

Eternal truth for humankind. 



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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 




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